Pillars

I have seen Heroes
Shinning alone on the battlefield
Sword bare in bloodied hands
Hiding tears behind their shield
And the poets who wrote of courage
Knew not from those sunlit tower
That all wars are fought by them
Who has no ounce of power

I have seen Teachers
Cradling books in their velvet hand
Certain of the wisdom beneath the words
That the world fails to withstand
And the pupils who stay blind
And believe in it all
Are kept to learn the truth
Nailed as paintings upon the wall

I have seen Kings
Holding heaven in their earthly palms
Dive deep in the selfish seas
And make fist while breathing alms
And the people who praise the lord
For the health of the dear monarch
Knows not that the hand which feeds
Is the one that lays the nark

I have seen Saints
Swimming in the grey, tepid pool alone
And where hundreds had fallen
The saints could never drown
A miracle that belonged to them
Not by the blessings of the Throne
But because of the fact that the misery
Was not of their own

The Lost Sense of Bewilderment

Jayson Hinrichsen @ unsplash

I wonder if life would have been the same
If I had but a different name
As common as the monsoon rain
Somewhere between John and Jane

I wonder who would have called me close
Gifted whiskey or a blood red rose
Shared laughter with a list of woes
And left me where the west wind blows

I wonder if I would have been happy more
Being a seashell on a shallow shore
Drunk with madness like never before
Following the echo of my silent roar

I wonder if I would have lived long
Sang a chorus in some choir song
Before in life it all went wrong
For now I am but not where I belong…

Streetside Socrates

Flesh and light
Bone and stone
Are same, similar; a synonym
Of everything

I gazed into the night
Fragmented by the city lights
Knifing the dreams dead in their tracks

Scalped thoughts
Hanging from the cumerbund
Of the comedian
Laugh with the wind

There is no framework for fame
Nietzsche is not a name
And all that I know of shame
Came from the fingers that blame;
Et tu?
Fuck you
Bad words don’t exist
At all
For thoughts know not their origin
But only the sin
Of being
The way they are

Broken mirrors
Cannot mend the man
And broken man
Never has a mirror

Everything is going to disappear soon
And the leftover void shall know
There is nothing known as nothingness
For even in silence the silence shall grow

Perdu

Once I wrote a poem
The perfect one
For those who cannot read
It had, commas, at all the right, places,
And no exclamation mark!
Or operose words one does not know
Or any rhyme to ruin the bitter flow
If only I had been able to see
The invisible ink
I would never have used the poem
As a tissue paper